


pressure rise (all you, diamonds)

by yanak324



Series: love on the brain [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arya looking like a snack, Begging, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, POV Gendry Waters, Vaginal Fingering, and Gendry can't help himself, delaying gratification
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 17:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21747655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanak324/pseuds/yanak324
Summary: He’d relive the moment a thousand times over – just to have her standing in such a compromising position now, describing all the things he can do to her, if he pleases.Arya, Gendry, and a naughty welcome home.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: love on the brain [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1510148
Comments: 108
Kudos: 207





	1. tease

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely a product of my muse and her inability to let go of smutty ideas that don't fit into my current WIPs! Also inspired by the various convos I've had with peeps about the rampant need for more kink in our lovely fandom. 
> 
> Title stolen from Third Eye Blind (their new album is *lit*); characters on retainer from GRRM. I owe nothing. Hope you enjoy!

They stumble into the house in one big mess of limbs and kisses, grinning to each other as he shrugs off her coat and then his own, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

As soon as she slams the door shut with her heel, he pulls her to him, fitting her into the tight space between himself and the end table. 

She tries to steady herself, but he doesn’t give her much room to move. He bands his arms around her waist, pushing her breasts flush against him, and feeling for a way to take the top off her.

Her breath is warm on his neck, and it’s distracting – _she_ is utterly distracting.

But the desperation he’s felt since earlier that evening, the thrum of anticipation building low in his belly and reaching all the way up to the back of his neck, that feeling keeps him on track, keeps him focused on getting her naked. 

No matter what. 

“There are so many buttons. Why the bloody hells are there so many buttons?” 

He mutters this against the shell of her ear, nudging it gently with his nose as his hands desperately roam her back, searching for a solution. 

Even though she’s just as desperate for him, her movements are far more fluid and graceful as she spins around, braces herself against the table, and grinds her ass right into him.

“You told me to dress up. I was trying to be a good girl and follow instructions.” 

His hands, on her hips, still immediately as he takes in the coy gaze she throws over her shoulder. The curve of her heart-shaped mouth is painted red tonight, and he thinks he wouldn’t mind having that lip stain on his dick later. But right now, he has other things on his mind.

“Goddamn, Arya, don’t say shit like that.” 

Not when your perfect ass is rubbing right against my cock, he wants to add, but decides he’d rather just focus on getting her naked and then he can say all the filthy things he wants to. 

But his wife has never been a good girl, is truly shit at taking any direction, and pretty much does whatever the hell she wants. 

So, Gendry knows there’s some therapist out there who would probably have a field day analyzing what it means that he gets even harder as she bats her eyelashes at him and shrugs,

“Why not? Don’t you wanna make me suffer a little bit?” 

She pushes even more into him, sending a delicious wave of pressure along his crotch, and his hand stammers on the first button at the top of her spine.

“I was gone for two whole weeks; didn’t even fuck you the morning I left –“

“Arya,” 

It’s a warning, because _fuck_ , her words are getting to him, sending his mind into a tailspin; taking him back to the late nights he’s spent alone in their bed, aching for her touch but having to settle for his own rough hand instead. 

“And then I show up straight from the airport, no text, no nothing. Just waltz into your work event, and distract you from some _very_ important people and -…” 

She’s not wrong. 

She did show up without warning, arriving in the ballroom where the fundraiser was taking place and making him look like a fool in front of a bunch of donors, because he suddenly couldn’t take his eyes away from her.

Away from the black jumpsuit that made her already long legs stretch on for miles; away from the way her hair was so delicately swept up into some sort of low twist, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. 

Away from the absolutely indecent strip of skin that bisected the material of her top – one wrong move away from revealing the curve of her breast. 

And fuck. 

He was already terrible at small talk but after she walked into the room, Gendry thinks he could have been held at gun point and not noticed. 

And yet he would do it all over again. 

Just to see the look on her face when his jaw dropped. When he walked over to her and slipped his arm around her waist and inhaled her sweet scent. When he brushed a kiss right below her ear, a spot that makes her shiver without fail. 

He’d relive the moment a thousand times over – just to see her bright gray eyes light up as she slid her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

Just to have her standing in such a compromising position now, still muttering to him about all the things he can do to her, if he pleases. 

And he’s so deep into it, so deep into her that he doesn’t even realize he’s finally gotten the stupid buttons unlatched until Arya’s turned around, the top half of her jumpsuit pooling down to her waist, and his mouth goes dry. 

She wasn’t even gone for that long, but he’d pictured her a dozen times like this, naked and panting before him. And yet it’s nothing compared to the real thing. It never is. 

Her nipples are dark pink and tight, stark again the paleness of her heaving chest, and in his opinion, begging to be licked.

Her eyes shine like beacons in the dimness of the room, and before Gendry even thinks about it, he’s hoisting her up onto the table and dragging his hands from her bare hips up her torso to cup both breasts. 

His thumbs brush her nipples, but just barely, and the whine that escapes her lips goes straight to his cock, straight to his balls, a heaviness building in his spine. 

As frantic as he is for her, as much as he can feel himself strain against the confines of his slacks, Gendry takes a moment to watch her as he toys with her. Rubbing and pinching until her back is so bowed that he barely has to lean down to drag his tongue across the puckered flesh.

“You want me to punish you?” 

He says against the swell of her breast, running his nose along her sternum and then dipping down to the other one, pulling the tip between his teeth and sucking lightly. 

“Yes.” 

Her reply is breathless and her fingers dig into his skull as she tries to urge him forward. But he just smiles and rubs his cheek against her skin, eliciting another shudder.

“Tell me then.” 

The hand at her hip moves inward, finding her heat and pushing into it.

“How many times did you touch yourself while you were away?” 

She doesn’t say anything at first, another groan falling from her lips. He looks up to find her head thrown back, the milky white skin of her throat exposed as she strains for air. 

There’s a flash of hesitation then, doubt about his ability to see this through when she looks like _that_ , like a goddess splayed out for his taking.

But then Arya tilts her head down and practically leers at him as a smile tugs on her lips, 

“Almost every night.” 

And a fire ignites somewhere deep within his core. Some primal force that wants to see her unravel activating as images flood his mind – 

Her naked on the bed in her hotel room, legs spread wide and fingers working at her clit; hand dragging along her own breasts, tugging at her nipples as her moans fill the silence, and fuck – 

He wants it to be _his_ hand on her tits, _his_ fingers inside her, _his_ mouth on her skin. 

His name on her lips as she falls apart. 

He pulls her forward by the back of her neck as his fingers dip below the waistband of her jumpsuit and then he’s swallowing her moans as he delves into her heat.

Arya wastes no time winding her leg around the back of his, hoping to get some friction. 

And while he knows exactly what he needs to do to have her coming in seconds, knows all too well what makes her back arch and her cunt flutter, he promised her punishment and so – 

“Gendry, fuck.” 

Her hips shoot up off the table as he stills his fingers and bites into the side of her throat at the same time. 

He smirks against her pulse point, lathing it with his tongue and following it with the scrape of his beard. 

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” 

He moves just one finger, the one furthest away from where she wants it, and her inhale devolves into a groan, then a whine as he stops again. 

“You really thought I would let you come so easily?” he drags his mouth just lightly across her collarbone, just barely enough to prove a point, “after you boasted like that about getting off.” 

He does it again, a different finger this time, and smiles when she grabs onto his forearm, hard. 

“No, love.” 

He shrugs off her hand, putting it right back down onto the table and covering it with his as he levels a gaze at her.

“You have to work for this one.”

Even in the darkness of the room, he can see how blown wide her gray irises are with desire, how delirious she is from the pleasure he’s giving her. 

His cock twitches almost painfully as he realizes that he barely even has two fingers on her and she’s this desperate for him.

It almost shakes his resolve…. _almost._

Another tap, this time along the side of her clit and the clench of her leg around him has him pushing into the table, seeking out whatever friction he can find between her legs. 

But it’s not enough to make him capitulate to her, not until he’d heard her beg. 

And Gendry didn’t realize up until this moment how much he in fact wants to hear Arya beg for him. 

He abandons her clit entirely, choosing to massage around it; exploring one side and then the other; then moving his fingers in a circular motion that he knows from copious amounts of experience will have her cursing in no time. 

She doesn’t disappoint, a litany of filthy words spilling from her mouth as her thighs rub up and down at his sides, trying to pull him in closer or herself closer – Gendry doesn’t stop to think about it, choosing instead to appreciate the way her breasts move as she chases the pressure. 

“Say please Gendry.” 

He leans down to kiss each nipple, tongue darting out to drive her just a little crazy, and he’s rewarded with another lovely moan, another whine. 

“Say, I’m sorry Gendry for playing with myself without asking permission first.”

He dips a finger inside, just knuckle deep but it’s enough for her to lose her purchase on the table. He catches her with one arm around her waist, refusing to lose this perfect rhythm, not even for a second. 

“Say, I’m sorry, Gendry, for rubbing my pretty little cunt while you were miles away missing me.” 

He’s not sure if it’s his words that get her – for how true they really are and how much he’s missed her – or if it’s his finger curling upward, seemingly of its own accord, but suddenly her words, her pleas fill the air. 

_Please_ and _fuck_ and _sorry_ and his name mixed in somewhere. 

And he’s a man possessed as he pulls her to the very edge of the table and buries all three fingers inside her. 

His thumb lands right on her clit, right where she’s wanted him the whole time, and they let out nearly identical moans as he feels the tightness of her heat and she welcomes the intrusion of his fingers.

He doesn’t make her wait this time, doesn’t tease her, pushing his fingers in deeper and using the flat of his palm to replace the pressure of his thumb – he doesn’t let her adjust, knows she doesn’t need it with how absolutely drenched she is already. 

So, he starts moving his fingers, starts twisting and swirling, all the while rubbing her clit, pressing on it from all sides, and her cries start to filter through the air, overwhelming him just as much as the tremble of her thighs around his hips. 

He’s not even inside her and it feels like she’s everywhere. 

He tries to focus on something, anything that won’t make him stain his boxers with precum like he fucking feels himself doing already. But it’s impossible for him to find any spot on her that doesn’t make him want to explode right here and now, like a bloody teenager. 

The flush on her cheeks, the sway of her breasts, the press of her teeth against her lip – all of it makes his control slip further and further away, makes his hand work faster on her – a contrast from how teasing and light he’d been with her earlier. 

He finally curves his fingers upward, searching out that spot inside her that’s going to pull her over the edge. 

Before he can find it, he feels the clench of her walls and then the spasm of her body. She stills and all he can do is watch as she falls apart beneath him; a gush of liquid flooding his palm as she convulses.

She rides out her pleasure, eyes shut and a million micro expressions shifting on her flushed face. Gendry is so momentarily awestruck, like he usually is when he gets to watch her let go, he almost forgets about his fingers inside her. 

But then his hand moves, and Arya’s eyes shoot up wide, and it’s his turn to leer at her, as they both realize she’s still at his mercy. 

Not giving her even a moment of respite, he resumes his search, fingers curling and rubbing her slippery flesh, determined to pull another release from her. 

Arya’s mouth drops open, as if she’s about to say something, but whatever objection she might have had dies on her lips as he finds what he was looking for. 

This time, she’s not loud as she writhes against him. 

She’s not screaming his name or begging him to touch her. 

No, this time, it’s too overwhelming for her to do any of that, but Gendry knows he’s got her by the way she bears down on his fingers, cunt clenching so deliciously as her half-lidden eyes capture his and don’t let go. 

At the very last second, her lips curve up into a smile, just slightly, just enough to let him know how fucking good he’s made her feel, and then he’s utterly gone too, watching as she shakes again, muscles straining and breasts bouncing as she rides the crest. 

He slowly massages his fingers out of her, but keeps the pressure on her clit, determined to prolong the feeling for her, to help her chase the remnants of her pleasure.

He’s not sure how much time passes, but eventually Arya relaxes completely, and then she’s sitting up and draping her arms around his shoulders.

He forgets his aching cock in favor of holding her. The softness of her skin is such a contrast to the starchiness of his dress shirt and suit, he melts into it, stroking up the base of her spine as he listens to her heartbeat slow down. 

“Maybe I should go away more often; if this is how you greet me home.” 

Her voice is a bit shaky but her eyes are bright and there’s a sheen of sweat along her hairline that he desperately wants to lick off. 

“No way,” he says quickly before tilting her chin up and pulling her into a kiss, “as much as I loved this, I’d rather have you in my bed…every night.”

He punctuates it with another kiss, and it might be the worst – or best – thing he’s said to her tonight because her mirth filled eyes grow dark again, turning the color of charcoal, and then she’s pulling him by the belt buckle, and pushing her palm deliberately down.

“Then take me.” 

And the flush of arousal comes back tenfold, the pressure in his spine again, the tightness of his balls, and Gendry knows, just knows, if he doesn’t move soon, he’ll ruin a perfectly good pair of slacks. 

It’s a no brainer then to lift her in his arms and carry her through the darkened hallway to their bedroom.

Because maybe this is the part of the evening where Arya tells _him_ what to do.

And he has no problem obeying. 

xxx


	2. taunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s truly a travesty how quickly she’s turned the tables on him, how quickly he’s lost control of the situation and yet it all feels so good, he's not sure he ever wants it to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...as per usual, my muse doesn't understand that brevity is the soul of wit, and we're now up to three parts to this story. I'll be updating the last bit very soon but for now please enjoy as Arya turns the tables on Gendry. This picks up directly after the last chapter.
> 
> Again, I own nothing, except my insane muse and gratitude to all the people out there supporting my work. Thank you <3

Arya’s hands are on him as soon as they enter the bedroom. She doesn’t let up even as Gendry sets her down on the bed, nimble fingers unlooping his shirt buttons with a lot more finesse than his earlier attempt to undress her. 

He’d lost his suit jacket somewhere in the hallway, but it’s not like either of them misses it.

Once she divests him of his shirt, Gendry expects her to get started on his belt, but she sits back on the edge of the mattress and looks up at him with a glint in her eye that’s difficult to look away from. 

He does – but only for a split second – only long enough to realize that his jacket’s not the only thing they’d disposed of along the way. 

And if he wasn’t already hard to the point of aching, his cock would surely spring to life at the sight of his absolutely smokin’ hot wife reclining back on _their_ bed in nothing but a flimsy pair of black panties. 

There’s enough ambient light for him to spot the flush adoring her otherwise pale – and incredibly soft – skin. 

His mouth practically waters at the sight of her small, pink nipples still so tight and hard, just waiting for his tongue or his hands or fuck, any sort of contact really.

He leans in, one knee already on the bed, bracketing her thigh as he contemplates maybe sucking a love bite right into the milky white flesh of her right breast, when Arya’s hand shoots out to stop him. 

She presses her palm right below his belt buckle, instantly reminding him of two things: just how desperate he is for her and that despite the teasing he’d administered earlier, she’s very much the one in control now. 

The errant thought makes his cock swell to an almost uncomfortable degree, and he knows by the way Arya’s face instantly splits into a devilish smile – tongue darting out to run along her bottom lip – that she can feel it and _fuck,_ it only reaffirms that which Gendry has known all along. 

His wife has got to be the hottest fucking thing he’s ever laid his eyes on. And he’ll do whatever she tells him to. 

As if reading his mind, Arya leans forward, obscuring her breasts from his view, but making up for it by licking a strip from his belly button down to his belt, all the while still putting a delicious amount of pressure right on his cock.

Gendry thinks he deserves a fucking medal for not just thrusting in her face right then and there.

Instead he swallows past the absolute dryness in his throat and waits until Arya looks up, gaze now almost sleet gray and filled with so much promise, he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning. 

“I was thinking…” she starts, while working his belt out of its buckle, and he nearly whines out of relief when it completely unloops. 

“Oh yeah?” 

His voice is hoarse, so very hoarse, and shaky, but Gendry isn’t surprised at all. This wouldn’t be the first time his wife has reduced him to a trembling, incoherent mess, and given how keyed up he’s been since he first laid his eyes on her earlier in the evening, he’s not even sure how he hasn’t exploded into his slacks yet. 

The thought prompts him to reach out, suddenly even more desperate to feel all the smooth, soft skin on display for him. Before he can settle his palm on her shoulder, or maybe run it along her arm, or even dip below and reach for her nipple, Arya catches his wrist mid-lift.

“Nu uh,” she admonishes him and the slight authoritative edge to her tone makes his balls tighten. 

Fuck, a therapist really would have a field day with all of this, but truly, Gendry couldn’t care less. 

Not when Arya moves to unsnap the button on his slacks and unzip his fly. Anticipation settles low in his belly because he knows he’s just seconds away from finally, _finally_ feeling the delicious squeeze of her hand on his – 

But he must not be paying close enough attention, because instead, all he feels is cold air hit his exposed dick.

“Arya, what the –“ 

But he doesn’t even know what he’d planned on saying, not when Arya’s leaning back again, an expression of mock innocence making her look like absolute sin as she dares to grin at him. 

“Since I’ve been so terrible to you,” her voice is like honey, settling over him and spreading through his veins as she continues to appraise him, “I think you should remind me what I’ve been missing.” 

Her gaze drops down to his cock and Gendry swears he swells from both the hungry look in her eye and the danger in her words. 

“You mean to tell me you need a reminder of my cock after just two weeks away?” 

But he’s already wrapping his own, much rougher hand around the base, and the relief he feels is almost palpable, causing him to thrust into his own grip, just enough to stave off the pressure that seems impossible to manage.

“Oh, so now it’s _just_ two weeks? You made it seem like an eternity earlier.” 

The taunt sends another bolt of heat straight to his crotch, right where he’s gripping his own leaking cock, rubbing it like he’s a fucking teenager. 

Maybe under different circumstances, he’d have a witty remark or two, or say something about how she shouldn’t be so smug when she was the goddamn quivering mess not a half hour earlier. 

But his thumb brushes along the wet tip seemingly of its own accord, triggering a bolt of pleasure straight down his spine and all Gendry is capable of is a deep grunt, one that feels like it’s pulled from the depths of his throat.

He doesn’t even realize he’d shut his eyes at some point, until he hears a sharp intake of breath that isn’t his. 

Maybe another man would be terribly embarrassed by the image he paints, standing over his wife, jerking himself off frantically with his cock just inches from her face, but the utterly captivated look in Arya’s eyes, paired with her flushed cheeks and the way she tries to control her own breathing only serves to make him feel more reckless, more on edge, spurring him on and putting the filthiest of thoughts in his mind. 

“Do you know how hard it is not to fucking touch you right now?” 

“Oh, is it?” 

She clearly doesn’t believe him, not with how absolutely committed he is now to getting himself off, but really that’s her fault. They both know, even if there’s not a lick of remorse or shame in the way Arya’s watching him stroke himself. 

“Gods, yes,” he manages to groan out in between heavier pants of air, not caring how he sounds. Not when he’s getting so much closer to the release that’s been so fucking out of reach all night; even if it’s not the one he wants. 

“Maybe I should make it up to you.” 

Arya’s words break through the haze, sending a bolt of anticipation straight through him, and he doesn’t even think twice about it as he grunts an answer back – “oh yeah? How?” 

But he really should, because he’s no way prepared for the wicked glint in her eye or the way she leans further onto her elbows, breasts now pushed up front and center for his viewing pleasure. He’s in no way prepared for her offer either as her eyes darken, never leaving his face.

“I’ll let you come wherever you want.” 

Gendry is honestly shocked he doesn’t just finish right then and there – what with the impact her words have on him and how sexy she looks, peering at him from beneath long black lashes, cheeks so flushed and so obviously wanting, lusting after him, even with the two orgasms he’d given her…

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

And he’s only semi-aware that he’s actually uttered this out loud when a perfectly sculpted eyebrow arches in amusement. 

“Is that a yes?” 

Never one to give up so easily, she continues to taunt him, dragging her hand slowly up and down the space between her breasts; a lazy pace that’s almost insulting compared to how furiously he works his hand. Two fingers finally settle around her nipple, pinching, tugging, and pulling as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. Like he’s not seconds away from exploding all over her perfect tits. 

But that’s not what ultimately undoes him. 

No, what makes his balls tighten to an almost unbearable degree, what makes seemingly all the muscles in his lower back lock and his arm start to burn as he teeters on the edge is the sight of her heart-shaped mouth pulled up into a smirk; one blunt incisor digging into her plumb bottom lip. 

In a startling moment of clarity, Gendry remembers what had immediately crossed his mind upon seeing her earlier, so rarely dolled up, mouth painted an alluring shade of red, and before he can stop himself, he loops his other hand around her neck and brings her closer. 

There’s little resistance but Arya still looks up at him, eyes wide, a hint of surprise but he can’t stop now. 

Not when he’s this close, and her breath is so warm and directly on his sensitive skin, her mouth a hairsbreadth away from where he wants – no _needs_ \- her. 

“Told me I can come wherever I, oh fuck, Arya, I can’t, I’m gonna –“ 

But it’s too much, he can barely breathe, let alone speak and he’s well aware of just how incoherent he is. She’s entirely to blame, but she’s not moving now, just watching him with that infuriatingly arrogant look on her face. Like she’s got him right where she wants him. 

And Gendry knows, he fucking knows that _she_ knows what he’s trying to ask for but his wife’s never been one to play by the rules. So, he’s not entirely surprised that she leans forward and blows on the tip, pulling a choked cry from him. 

“Fucking hells, Arya.” 

“What was it you said earlier?” 

He feels more than hears her words. He swears, if she keeps taunting him, he might not even need her sweet mouth. He’ll just explode on her face and her tits and every inch of her skin and it’s going to be her fault, all her – 

“I had to work for it, right?” 

“Arya, _please._ ” 

“Please, what? I’ll give you whatever you want, you just have to ask for it.” 

He doesn’t restrain the groan that spills out of his throat at that. 

It’s truly a travesty how quickly she’s turned the tables on him. How quickly he’s lost control of the situation and yet it all feels so good, so fucking good. 

Some primal force – probably the same one that had turned him into the animal that pushed her up against the end table and made her come twice all around his fingers – forces the words out of him. 

“Fuck, Arya, I want your mouth. I want you to suck – “ 

But before he can even finish his thought, can do exactly as she’d bloody asked of him, Gendry feels the distinct and oh so familiar wet heat of his wife’s mouth around his cock and it’s all he can do not to thrust right into it. 

He’s not sure if his brain actually short-circuits or his vision truly whites out but when he feels the warm slide of her tongue, his hold on her neck tightens. 

Chivalry, or priority or whatever the fuck you want to call it, completely goes out the window as she hollows out her cheeks and starts sucking in earnest. 

He knows his hand is still moving because the pressure is there, and it feels beyond unreal. But all he can focus on is how enthusiastically Arya is sliding her lips up and down his length, taking more and more of him every time until her lips brush along his hand, and then they’re working in tandem to get him off.

And the revelation alone would be enough to do him in, but then her eyes, nearly black with arousal, fleet to his and the flash of adoration he sees there, right as she reach up to palm his balls, it all becomes too much. 

_She’s_ too fucking much in the best way possible.

She’s the only one who can reduce him to this blithering mess and make him so heady with need and desire. He has this sudden, desperate urge to push her onto the bed and have her scream his name as he fucks her into oblivion. 

And it’s this thought – the image of Arya splayed out beneath him, his cock buried deep inside her as she writhes in pleasure – that finally does him in. 

He comes with a half-choked cry, his hand firmly on the back of Arya’s neck to keep her in place, but he’s certain she’d stay right there without it. 

Wave after wave of pleasure rock through him, the tension he’s been carrying for hours – hells for two weeks if he’s being honest – finally releases, leaving him with weakened knees, gasping for air in the aftermath. 

Gendry’s not entirely sure how he’s managed to stay upright through this entire thing – his fucking shoes aren’t even off – but one look at his wife, who has now taken to caressing his sides as she licks him clean and he knows exactly how he’s managed it all.

She’d asked him to and he’d do anything for her. The thought incites him to stroke the back of her neck lovingly, willing her to look up at him. 

Even though he’s utterly spent and doesn’t think he can do much of anything other than catch his breath at the moment, the blatant lust in her eyes, the need he sees reflected there, makes his cock involuntarily twitch. 

He’s not the only one who notices and it pulls a lazy smile from Arya’s face as she lets him go completely and leans back again. 

“So, does this mean we’re even then?” she asks playfully, an almost triumphant tilt to her voice. 

Her question is completely unnecessary and they both know it.

She’s bating him, taunting him, thinking that his orgasm has rendered him completely useless and Gendry realizes in that moment, that for all her intelligence and quick wit, and very rarely being wrong, his wife has just miscalculated.

Because there’s something he’s known from the second he’d laid eyes on her, years ago, and that’s that he’ll never get enough of her. 

Will never be fully satisfied until _she’s_ the one trembling and calling out his name and shuddering from one toe-curling orgasm after another. 

So, there’s really nothing else left to do but to lean forward and pull her into a very overdue kiss, biting that red stained lip that just been on his cock, and letting her know firmly and surely that they’re not done by any stretch of the imagination.

“Not a chance,” he whispers after they pull away, smiling triumphantly when he finds her eyes still closed, as if she’s still savoring the taste of him.

“Turn around and get on your hands and knees.” 

For once, his wife does as she’s told.


End file.
